


Solar Repast

by Alzerak



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Food Sex, Half-Sibling Incest, Kissing, Naked Cuddling, Neck Kissing, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Outercourse, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence, Praise Kink, Set in Season 6/7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 17:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alzerak/pseuds/Alzerak
Summary: Exhausted after a long day of work, the Lady of Winterfell takes a short break before her duties continue.





	Solar Repast

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be Sansa getting orgasms, but Jonsa are giving people, she'd never be completely happy if I didn't let her have some fun too...

Sansa Stark stepped into her solar with an air of relief. She ached all over after a long and gruelling day of duties; and wanted nothing more than to relax in a chair for the evening, but she knew that she only had a few minutes before she would have to attend the great hall to partake in the evening meal.

Lost in her thought, she was momentarily startled when she realised she was not alone. Jon was crouched by the fireplace, stoking the flames to cast a warm glow into the room.

“Jon?” Sansa asked. She expected him to be waiting for her downstairs. “Isn’t it dinnertime?”

Jon smiled at her as he saw her move into the room. “Indeed it is, which is why,” Jon stepped aside with a flourish, revealing a table replete with steaming foods whose smells wafted through the room. “I have brought dinner to you.”

Sansa could not deny the appeal of sitting down to an intimate meal with Jon, but...

“Shouldn’t we take our meal with our people?”

But Sansa had to admit, they did take most meals in the great hall, and if Jon had taken the time to prepare something, then she should…”

“They can spare us for one evening.” Jon walked around the back of Sansa to unclasp her thick cloak and hang it on her clothes-hook. “They understand that their King has something more important to take care of.” Jon continued, when Sansa was about to open her mouth. 

Sansa closed her mouth, hanging her head to hide the flush she felt erupt in her cheeks at Jon’s devotion to her above his own duties. She could not help but feel a fluttering in the girlish part of her heart she knew she should suppress, but she allowed Jon to guide her to the seat next to the small table. 

Sansa sighed happily as she sank into the comfortable seat. “Thank you Jon. It’s been a long day and which has taken its toll on me. I ache all over.”

Jon seemed determined that she would not have to lift a finger for the next few moments, so Sansa allowed herself to sit back and close her eyes whilst she spoke about her day as Jon served the meal.

Sansa accepted a plate with hot, freshly baked bread, accompanied by a warm bowl of stew, exactly what she needed after a long day in the cold winter weather. 

Sansa took a sip of her broth, and it was quite pleasing, but something was different. 

“I asked the cooks to add some extra kick.” Jon explained. “They were all ‘I’m sorry your Grace but we can’t do anything beyond the realities of the world so I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait along with the rest of us…’” Jon demonstrated the conservation he had with dramatic flair. 

“‘It’s for _The Lady of Winterfell?’”_ Jon continued, demonstrating the cook’s shock and offence at Jon egregious error at Jon not mentioning that from the beginning. “‘Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?’” Jon recounted, complete with the scolding tone that the cook had used on him. 

Sansa was pleased that Jon commanded respect without fear, even if she knew that the cooks would do whatever Jon required of them, even without Jon dropping her name. Still, they had obviously learned that Jon felt uneasy with people serving him, and so they played out the act. Sansa wondered if Jon was aware that his people would do anything for him.

“Of course,” Jon added fondly. “Once they realised that their beloved Lady needed sustenance, they would not let me leave without more…” Jon trailed off enticingly, casting his eye over to where the table held yet more tantalisingly hidden morsels. “Hence how I could beg pardon for attendance from the evening for us both; once I said to everyone that you needed a break from them after a long day they were all ‘Yes your Grace; though we want to see our Lady’s glorious presence, she needs rest. You’d better look after her tonight lest you face our wrathful vengeance!’”

It was easy to spend time with Jon if there was a threat hanging above their heads. Jon was _fun,_ even if it seemed to surprise Jon himself that people would want his company. But as Sansa listened to Jon’s report of his day, she felt as though her earlier complaints about her stiff joints and aches were unworthy, with Jon working hard in a physical manner whilst Sansa spent most of her time with more delicate pursuits.

Once Sansa finished her meal, she eagerly eyed off the covered platter, but Jon would not allow her to enjoy the hidden treats, and instead sent her into her room to change into some more comfortable evening-wear. Ignoring the warnings in her head about the impropriety, Sansa called for Jon after she found that her arms ached too much to reach around to undo the laces and buttons securing her dress at the back. 

Jon was as chivalrous a gentleman as ever, offering to fetch Brienne or a maid to assist, but Sansa casually remarked that it was not necessary to bother anyone for such a trivial task, despite the fact that her heart was pumping wildly.

Jon guided Sansa around to the big mirror that angled away from her bed; Sansa did not always wish to see her own body after the horrors that had been inflicted upon it, but it comforted her that Jon was so aware of how she might feel with a man stood behind her. But Jon’s presence elicited no fear from Sansa, as he gently and carefully undid the laces of her dress, just enough to allow her to be easily able to slip out of the sleeves on her own. Jon’s hand trailed over her arm, even this gentle touch over the sleeves of her dress caused gooseflesh to erupt all over, and Sansa felt warmer even though the embers of the fireplace in her bedroom were barely glowing. Jon politely turned his back as Sansa slipped out of her dress and wrapped a nightgown around her shoulders. Sansa began to take the pins out of her hair, but Jon gently came up behind her and spoke a whisper behind her ear.

“Let me.”

Sansa obeyed, and Jon guided her back out to be seated in back in her chair, and revealed hot cakes with blackberry spread and freshly whipped cream which made Sansa’s inner sweet tooth swoon with delight, and Jon sat behind Sansa as she rested her head back on her chair and removed the pins and braids that held her hair up, before softly brushing her hair time and again until all the stiffness of her pinned hair pulling on her scalp melted away into bliss as Jon’s fingers worked on her scalp, gently massaging it. Unfortunately, as pleasant as that feeling was, it meant that as Sansa’s head rested back on her chair, her face was tilted at just the wrong angle to eat her delicious cakes, upon which she had piled a generous portion of blackberries and cream. Still, Sansa did not have the patience to wait to sit up like a proper lady would, and took a great bite to predictable results, as some cream slipped down the tilted cake and onto her nose. 

“Whoops.” Sansa giggled, feeling as though she had a bellyful of ale or sweet wine, even though she had neither of those beverages accompanying her meal. She looked up to Jon, whose throat bobbed as he watched her try to wipe the cream off her nose.

“You missed a spot.” Jon seemed oddly out of breath as he gently swiped a finger next to her nose, and her heart racing, Sansa carefully darted her tongue out to lick the cream away, and she could not help but to notice Jon’s eyes darken at her actions, and felt the warmth inside her begin to radiate all over. Jon seemed to have physically wrench his gaze away from her, and for a terrible moment, Sansa thought she had gone too far, as Jon stepped away from her.

But he was quickly back; this time, he sat himself on the edge of the table and and pulled her foot onto his leg. Sansa shifted to seat herself more comfortably, which had the added benefit of allowing her to eat her dessert much more easily. Jon rubbed gently and firmly, where it was required, and as his hands moved over her feet and up her calves, Sansa could not help decadent little sighs escaping from her mouth as her knots and aches melted away under Jon’s gentle ministrations. 

Soon, Jon arrived at the hem of her thick nightgown, and ruefully pulled himself away. Once again, his eyes caught her own.

“Is there anywhere else that you ache, my lady?” 

Sansa felt an ordinate warmth continue to churn inside her. “Yes, your grace.”

“Then I shall continue?” Jon asked with a slight inflection, that Sansa could recognise that it was a question that she was the only one that needed to decided; no matter her choice, Jon would support it wholeheartedly. Despite a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that they were going down a path they could not return from, Sansa could not find it in herself to deny herself, or Jon. They had both suffered so much, and if they found a measure of comfort in each other, then whatever great power who would dare judge them was of concern to Sansa.

“If it is no bother…” Sansa continued, unsure if she was worthy of such devoted attention.

“My lady, it is far from a bother. It is a privilege to be able to serve the Lady of Winterfell, who serves her people so well.” Jon began to rub Sansa’s legs, up to her knees, before turning his ministrations to her upper legs. Seeing as it was beginning to be difficult for Jon to reach beyond her knee, Sansa folded her legs back down, and nodded when Jon knelt in front of her, spreading her legs slightly to allow Jon to fit between them, and Jon began to rub the lower half of Sansa’s upper legs, ensuring that her muscles were thoroughly loosened and relaxed after her long day.

“My lady is very kind to allow her King to thank for all her hard work.” Jon murmured quietly. Sansa’s nightgown had slipped open, revealing her underdress above her legs, but Jon was careful not to reach beyond three-quarters of the way up her leg, until Sansa reached down to gently guide Jon’s hand up to her thighs. Jon caught her eye, uncertain, but Sansa nodded, feeling a stickiness on her lips, wiped her tongue to moisten them, and Jon let out a breath, before reaching up to the sash that held Sansa’s nightgown together, and slid it out of the loops of the nightgown, allowing Jon to slide his hands up the outside of Sansa’s thighs and up to her hips. 

As Jon’s rough, calloused, yet gentle hands rubbed up and down her body, Sansa could not help the heat that had be roused inside her from pooling itself deep in her body, below her stomach. Yet Jon seemed to be just as effected as she was; Sansa noticed his pupils dilated whenever she caught sight of them.

Jon kept his ministrations carefully away from any possible reason to cause her distress, but Sansa found that this very avoidance was causing her more distress. To distract herself from her stomach swooping as Jon moved agonisingly close to moving beyond the bounds of propriety, if their actions remained as such, yet refused to move beyond those boundaries unless Sansa guided him to do so. Sansa felt her heart soar at the realisation that she held the power in this interaction, even though Jon was far stronger than she was. 

To distract herself, Sansa spread some more blackberry spread and cream on a cake, and held it out for Jon.

“You need your energy, my King.” Sansa told him. Jon accepted, and perhaps through fate, or an accident, or perhaps because they both wanted it, his fingers brushed against her breast, sending a jolt of energy through her body to zing in her cunny. Sansa breathed heavily as she realised that she would have to seize this moment. “My King needs his energy, he seems to be neglecting the core of the matter.”

Jon was no idiot, and even though he ensured that whatever Sansa wanted, she would have, he seemed to understand that if he spoke out loud, questioning whether his interpretation was correct, Sansa might deny herself, if she had the chance to analyse the ramifications. Jon moved back down to Sansa’s knees, using one hand to slide her underdress up past the top of her knee, running his hand over her bare skin, above her thigh-high woolen stocking. If his touch had elicited a response before, then his calloused hands running over her bare skin sent jolts of heightened awareness shooting across her body. Jon moved extremely slowly, raising the anticipation Sansa felt, tormented her with excruciating bliss as her body reacted to Jon’s attention.

Jon’s voice had changed too, a low timbre that rumbled deeply, as though vibrations emanated from his throat spread through her entire being. “My Lady works so hard, but sometimes I feel that she isn’t appreciated enough.” Jon had moved his face close to her legs, and his warm breath sent more shivers up her body, the warmth of his breath and the warmth inside her beginning to move closer to her core. 

Between rubbing her inner thighs and praising her intelligence and endeavour and hard work, Jon ate the cake that Sansa had offered him. Sansa knew that something would happen next, but was uncertain as to what. Her legs had spread open in anticipation, and she felt her cunt grow wetter as Jon’s attentions came closer and closer. Still, she knew that the bunched underdress that sat across the top of her thighs would hide any visual evidence of her growing arousal from Jon’s eyes, but as he moved up her thighs again, he added light butterfly kisses to her skin. If he realised that her thighs were marked by little scars, as he must, he did not show, and treated them as he did any other part of her body, and Sansa found herself appreciating that. Maybe another time could be devoted to wiping out her scars, if not physically, but emotionally, but for now, Sansa would be happy to ignore them.

Even though Jon could not see the wetness that no doubt now dotted her underthings, he could clearly _smell_ her, and if his deep breath as his nose moved closer to her cunt than any had gone before, he _enjoyed_ her smell. This indication of approval aroused Sansa further, and she gently set her platter aside on a side-table beside her to prepare herself for what came next. Sansa sat a precipice of the unknown, but she trusted Jon completed, and found it easy to meet his searching eyes and nodded to his questioning gaze.

Jon surprised her; he took the sash that had held her nightgown closed, and wrapped it around his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. Sansa knew that he was ensuring that _she_ was the centre of his attention, forgoing his own desire to see her, just to offer her as much comfort and ease in this new experience as he could. 

His hands moved up to the edge of her smallclothes, before he crossed final barrier, and touched Sansa’s cunt, above her underthings, yet the slight pressure on her core sent shivers of pleasure through her cunny which radiated through her body. Sansa could not help but emit a light sigh, and her hands reached down to touch Jon’s shoulders, lightly running her fingertips across his shoulders. Jon slowly rubbed the pads of his three big fingers up and down her underclothes above her cunt, as the other slid underneath the waistband to hook them, before he gently slid them down her legs. If Sansa was distressed by anything in the moment , it was his fingers momentarily abandoning their touching of her cunny, but Jon made recompense for this deprivation, this time, kissing the skin of her inner thigh as his fingers explored her folds. Sansa felt her arousal grow as her sighs became less intermittent and more constant, with Jon’s hand moving around her cunt with expertise. In the darkest nights where Sansa dared to explore her own body, her guilt for giving herself pleasure when she could not help but think of Jon’s kind smile or strong body as he ruled Winterfell and the North alongside her, added a tension that Sansa could not escape. But now, under Jon’s touches, her pleasure was the only thing she could think about, and Jon was giving her pleasure. If there was any tension, it was Jon increasing her pleasure beyond what she had ever felt before. As the pad of Jons thumb, wet with her juice, rubbed over the button at the top of her cunt, Sansa’s hips bucked up involuntarily, and she was sure that there was no greater pleasure in the world. 

Sansa realised how wrong she was a moment as Jon’s tongue laved up her cunt, before he placed soft and wet kisses one after the other up and down her cunny, before lapping at the juices she began to produce from his attention. Jon’s tongue dipped into her cunt. Her legs began to close around his head, but fortunately, her frantic clawing at the back of his head indicated that her body wanted him closer, and she was not trying to push him away. If Jon felt discomforted by her legs, he did not indicate it, lapping at her cunt with enthusiastic vigour. Soon, the attentions of his mouth shifted to the button at the top of her cunny that seemed to be the epicentre of her pleasure. His fingers replaced his tongue, but before he dipped one inside her, he waited.

“Gods, Jon!” Sansa cried out. “YES!”

With permission granted, Jon dipped one finger into Sansa’s cunt, gently probing in and out as his mouth alternated between licking, kissing and sucking at the top of her cunny. Sansa’s pleasure climbed as he continued his ministrations, increasing the pace slowly as he drew out her pleasure. 

Then, as Sansa’s sighs became moans, and then her moans became mutterings of Jon’s name, and her legs tightened around his head, Jon removed his hand from her cunny, grabbing hold of her thighs to spread them wide, before sucking the button of her cunt into his mouth. 

Her pleasure crashed around her as her body tried to slam her legs closed, but for a moment, Jon held them apart, drawing out her pleasure as waves of satisfaction coursed through her. Then, Jon released her legs, allowing them to slam shut around his head, and Sansa threw her head back as her pleasure engulfed her.

When Jon started to lick at her cunny again, Sansa blindly clawed for Jon’s head, pulling him up her body to her face. Sansa began to kiss the side of Jon’s face, craving more after he had brought her to the peak of such bliss. Her eyes closed as he kissed her cheek, she felt for the sash covering his eyes, removing it gently and setting it aside. He instantly lunged for her mouth as she did the same. It was odd, but not bad to taste herself on his mouth as he accepted her tongue into his mouth. Sansa tried to draw herself closer, but Jon seemed to be both enthusiastic to do so and reluctant to allow his lower half to come into contact with her. Sansa moaned into his mouth as suspicions for such a reason came to her, and her hands slid over Jon’s body as she found his and drew them up to the parts of her body which he had so far neglected. 

Feeling constricted, Sansa pushed herself up and Jon assisted and allowed himself to be moved as they continued to kiss, before shrugging herself out of her nightgown. Sansa pushed Jon into the thick curtains. Perhaps, if someone were to look up at the exact right angle, they would see some movement inside, but Sansa was sure they would not be able to tell the exact happenings, and at any rate, a small, wicked thrill shot through her at the prospect of being glimpsed. 

Sansa, who spent her life for years dreading any kind of touch, relished being able to touch and be touched by someone who would never hurt her, so fingers searched for any contact with Jon that they could have. They slipped under his shirt and felt the cords of his muscles as his hands ran through her hair. As their kisses became heavier, Sansa’s fingers bravely ventured to Jon’s waistband.

Jon stopped kissing her. “You don’t have to do that, my lady.” Jon began. “This is for your pleasure.”

Sansa bit her lip, pausing to consider. _Had her wanton advances scared Jon away?_ “I want to. Please?”

Jon searched her face for any lies, and Sansa flushed under his attention. She momentarily thought it was strange to be embarrassed after where his mouth had just been, and the memory inflamed her once more. If he was searching for any lie, he did not find it, for he nodded after a moment.

“Unless you do not want it.” Sansa added, hoping that he did, but unwilling to force him into anything.

Jon’s expression of sheer confusion took her by surprise for a moment, as if the concept of refusing her was so alien to him that he never considered the possibility, or because, Sansa hoped, that he wished to have her as strongly as she wished for him in the depths of her heart.

If his attentions were any indication, then he must have some desire for her - yet Sansa wondered if Jon would give her pleasure even when he harboured no desire for her; such was Jon’s level of sacrifice that such was in his character.

But Sansa knew she was a pleasing woman to look at; after everything she had been through, she knew when people looked at her. Happily, in Winterfell, even those who noticed her kept their gazes respectful and cursory, for the most part. But Sansa had noticed Jon _look_ at her. Sometimes, he didn’t seem to be always aware of it, and though his eyes had fallen to her breasts _often_ , sometimes multiple times per day, his gaze was not always directed there; he always seemed to be searching her out, exchanging a small nod, or a smile, or just blinking up at her slowly. 

Sansa enjoyed Jon’s attention, and if he was giving her as much attention as he did, he must also desire her.

“Of course I want it, my lovely lady,” Jon’s permission allowed Sansa to slip her hand under his breech and over his underclothes. His manhood was turgid, not yet hardened completely, but Sansa was surprised to find his smallclothes slightly wet and sticky. 

“I apologise, my lady.” 

_Had Jon found release just from giving her pleasure?_ Sansa wondered, and the idea of that being so caused Sansa to push herself into Jon’s body, and she kissed him fiercely as her palm pressed into his manhood. 

Jon bucked slightly at Sansa’s attentions, moving his face to bury his beard in her neck as he kissed her, being careful to ensure he didn’t leave a mark above where her dress would be. 

Despite his cock reacting to her attentions, after spending so soon before, it needed time to recover. Jon’s kisses moved to her collarbone as Sansa’s hands worked on his breeches. _No reason not to plan for the future,_ Sansa thought, as Jon’s pants slid down his legs. Jon continued to suck into her skin, but he was not gentle, and Sansa knew they would leave marks, and her body delighted in this truth, her cunny growing slick with Jon’s attention to her body. Feeling a wicked wantonness erupt inside her, Sansa backed away from Jon, slowly enough for him to chase after her, backing into the back of her chair, before she reached her fingers for the pitcher of whipped cream, digging her fingers into the cream before spreading it at the tops of her breasts where her skin was exposed. Sansa pressed her fingers with the remaining cream to Jon’s lips, and he eagerly accepted the offering.

“My King has not completely fulfilled his duties…” Sansa trailed off, looking at Jon through hooded eyes. 

Jon reacted with more lustful aggression than he ever had before, reaching out and tearing through the top of her dress to expose her teats. Sansa squeezed her legs together as a thrill shot through her cunt at Jon’s actions; _she was thrilled at Jon becoming so undone by her,_ as his hands found her breasts, pinching at her teats with his thumb and forefinger as slow foreplay was replaced with desperate attention. His mouth and tongue licked at the cream perched atop her full, perky breasts, whilst his hands shifted between cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples, hard enough to send jolts of pleasure shooting to her cunt, but not to cause pain. One of Sansa’s hands moved to Jon’s cock and her fingers wrapped around his clothed manhood, as far as they could do. _And,_ if Sansa thought so herself, _her dexterity was certainly able to effect him, even through his undergarments._

Her other hand snaked down to allow a finger to rub at the button atop her cunny; her dress providing a different sensation to skin on skin contact.

Jon reacted to her touch; his attention to her breasts changed as he finished sucking and licking the whipped cream off of her teats; Jon’s hands feel to grope and squeeze her arse gently, and being one to adopt good ideas, Sansa reciprocated, ceasing the rubbing of her cunny to feel Jon’s arse. Sansa knew that when statues were made of the King in the North, they would have to be inaccurate, else they would be unsuitable for the public eye.

Searching for new friction, Sansa pushed herself into Jon’s body as his strong arms lifted her slightly to allow his mouth easy access to her teats. Between sucking and licking at her nipples Jon moaned into her skin, expletives and adulations to her beauty and intelligence. 

Sansa’s hand found its way under Jon’s undergarments to take hold of his cock as her dress began to fall off her shoulders. The dressed pooled at her hips as she began to pump Jon’s cock to hardness as he continued to suck and pluck at her nipples with his mouth and lips. Sansa began to rub more vigourously as a second peak approached, but as Jon recognised this and moved his focus to helping her to reach her climax by focusing all their shared attention on her. But Sansa wanted to stay at this plateau of near-pleasure without cresting the wave, and she pushed Jon back and helped him to seat himself on the thick back of her chair, the movement and change of the angle of her arm coercing his underclothes to slide down his legs. Jon kicked them away as Sansa bent down slightly to place a kiss on the tip of Jon’s cock.

“Gods, Sansa!” Jon cried out; quietly enough that unless some pressed their ear against the door, they would not hear him. Understanding that, when he spoke next, his voice was softer. “My lady is so kind to bestow such a gift upon her King.”

Sansa squeezed her legs around her cunt and licked her lips at Jon’s praise, her tongue sweeping over the head of his cock, before she opened her lips to take the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head.

Now, with his mouth unoccupied, Jon’s praises fell from his lips freely. “My Lady is so generous, to share such pleasure. My Lady should know that her King is eternally grateful for every word and deed she does, helping to ensure the safety of the North,” Sansa pushed her head down, allowing Jon’s cock into her sweet, wet mouth. Unfortunately, due to her inexperience, the angle was slightly wrong, and her teeth scraped against him. Jon held himself steady, and Sansa, a fast learner, quickly corrected herself as Jon continued, “her family,” Sansa sucked for the first time, hollowing her cheeks and releasing the suction with a pop before licking up the underside of Jon’s cock as he finished with a desperate gasp. “And our house.”

Jon’s cock was painfully hard. “Sansa,” Jon rumbled out a warning. Sansa released him from her mouth , and despite the ache from being without released, Jon watched as Sansa took his hand and guided him towards her bedroom. She shimmied her hips as she moved, allowing the dress to begin to fall off. Getting the hint instantly, Jon pulled off his own shirt and let it fall the the floor, a trail forming from garments scattered across the floor of her solar. 

Sansa moved around to the side of her bed, with Jon waiting in the doorway, expecting her command. Sansa nodded, beckoning him over as she adjusted the heavy mirror so they faced themselves.

“Do you trust me?” Sansa asked. Jon nodded instantly and without reservation, drinking in her naked form as he did so; from the faint marks he had left on the tops of her breasts, to her pink nipples jutting from her teats, to the vibrant red curls above her cunt, and her long, shapely legs which still bore her stockings. Sansa moved aside to admire Jon, who was not only pretty, but strong and handsome his scars were attractive, evidence of his bravery, stark against his hard body; all except the evidence of the blades that killed him. Sansa could find no reason to approve of them; though she was going to accept them as part of him. She only felt anticipation for his hard cock, jutting up from his coarse black curls. But beyond just Jon’s body, as beautiful as it was, it was Jon’s behaviour that attracted her - the way he drank her in with his eyes, a lustful gaze that did not make her feel diminished, but an indication of sheer admiration and respect for her. She felt _loved_ as Jon looked at her, as his hand swept her hair over one shoulder.

“ _Sansa,”_ Jon rumbled in a deep voice. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He could see all her scars, from the lines where the swords of Joffrey’s Kingsguard struck her across the back to the reminders of Ramsay’s blades on her thighs, and he still found her pleasing to look upon.

“So brave, my Lady Stark.” Jon intoned as he kissed along her collarbone. Sansa rubbed her arse back against his cock, before reaching down to adjust herself so his cock jutted between her thighs, rubbing against her slick cunny. Sansa rolled her hips as Jon fucked in the gap between her legs, his hard cock coated with her juices as it moved up and down between the lips of her cunt to kiss the button at the top of her cunt. One of Jon’s arms snaked around her waist to hold her steady whilst the other moved to cup her breasts and pinch her nipples. Sansa allowed one of her hands to roam over Jon’s cock and her cunny, rubbing, pressing and holding as desire took her. Her other hand reached out to the solid frame of the mirror to balance herself as they began to move more vigourously against each other. Sansa’s slick cunny slipped around Jon’s cock as their movements became more erratic. Sansa’s pale body was flush with exertion and Jon’s attention, and she moved her hand down to steady his cock as her cunt swiped up and down his manhood.

Be it through providence, accident, or fate, as Jon pinched Sansa’s nipple, a jolt of pleasure shot through Sansa’s body to her cunny just as the palm of her hand pressed into the button above her cunt. This quirk of fate led to Sansa bucking her hips a little further, and Jon’s cock thrust into her wet and willing quim. 

Sansa’s mouth fell open in a silent scream as the walls of her cunt began to pulse and squeeze around Jon’s cock it pulsated inside her cunny, Jon releasing his seed inside her. 

Sansa mouthed Jon’s name as he muffled his own cry of her name into her shoulder. _Her own brother had just spent his seed inside her cunt,_ yet Sansa felt utterly whole and complete in the moment. A moment passed between them as they looked each other in the eye through their reflections, before Sansa spun around and kissed Jon with passionate energy. Jon accepted eagerly, and the two fell upon Sansa’s bed, with Jon’s arms holding her close. Sansa soon drifted off to sleep, safe in Jon’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> I asked myself if Jonsa should fuck, and fate decided for me. Jonsa should always fuck; Jonsa find a way.


End file.
